


The Future

by Not Applicable (not_applicable)



Series: My Gen Prompt Bingo Card [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Parents, Addiction, Angst and Porn, Detox, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen Prompt Bingo, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Recovery, Slut Shaming, fluid bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_applicable/pseuds/Not%20Applicable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1217173">Leave The Light On</a>. </p><p>Tony used to hate thinking about the future, but now he did it all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Future

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [my Gen Prompt Bingo Card](http://not-applicable.dreamwidth.org/3376.html): #9, **Sacrifice/Letting Go**. This is a direct sequel to [Leave The Light On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1217173), so read it first or you won't understand a word of this! The Starks are in this story, and in order to use them I had to fuck up the MCU timeline a bit - though many things in Tony's timeline aren't set in stone by the MCU as of yet. Still. Please handwave any divergences.
> 
>  **TRIGGER WARNING** for emotionally and verbally abusive households/parents, slut shaming, addiction, detoxing off of narcotics, and struggling with recovery.

_The Beginning of May_

 

Tony watched Rhodey enter the airport and disappear around the corner before waving the driver on. They hadn't even merged into traffic before the eight ball was out of Tony's pocket and he was using a fingernail to shovel three or four bumps up his nose. He wiped at his face and his hairline – he was still sweating – and just breathed, waited for the coke to hit him and the pain to pass. They were heading to a private airstrip to board his family's jet, where his father was waiting to escort him back to Malibu for the summer.

Tony shook his father's hand and boarded the jet, then did bumps in the bathroom during the entire ride home while his father lounged around the cabin. Tony thought Howard seemed suspicious since he asked several times if Tony was alright, but Tony just waved him off and stared out of the window, legs bouncing in place. A nap would make time pass quicker (as if Tony could fall asleep in this condition), but luckily it didn't seem like Howard wanted to talk to him. A meal was served and they ate at separate tables in complete silence.

They got home and Tony locked himself in his bathroom, then he used a razorblade to cut two thick lines of cocaine on his bathroom countertop – the last of his stash – and snorted them up quickly. He licked the baggie while coke dripped down the back of his throat, making it numb. Tony sighed and rolled his neck as the drug hit him – his body felt warm, his skin hummed as he gasped for breath, his hands tingled and felt cold. He stood still for a moment and just enjoyed the feeling, tried to memorize the sensation of cocaine hitting him hard for the last time. Tony wanted this to be the last time.

So that was all of the cocaine Tony had in his possession, and he didn't know where to get anymore in Malibu, at least. He'd done a lot in the past few hours so he knew he'd be awake for a while. It was six o'clock and dinner would be happening soon. He'd have to eat with his parents, talk to them while he was all geeked but that wasn't nearly as awful as having Rhodey beat the vomit out of his airways for him, threaten to leave him. Never again. His parents didn't know about that, about _this_ , and they never would. This was it. He was ending this. He'd miss this.

 

Tony kept his eyes straight ahead and wolfed down his dinner, barely responding to his parents' questions and comments, and he was back in his bedroom after just ten minutes at the table. He was really high and felt antsy, kept shaking his hands and his head and walking around his room. Tony wasn't used to being this confined when he was geeked up. He was always out partying or either in the lab working, going a mile a minute. So he just worked on a few sketches, a few modifications he intended to make to DUM-E in the next couple of days, and he tried to look at the programming a bit but Rhodey wasn't there. So Tony found the baggie in the trash and licked it again before flushing it down the toilet. He tried to jerk off but couldn't get hard, so he turned on the television. It was the summer and Arsenio Hall was in reruns, unfortunately, but they were on until early morning most days. So Tony watched that until four in the morning, when he finally felt himself coming down a bit, and he had a couple of whiskeys to facilitate the process. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

At 12:45 pm that day, Tony was still awake and drunk, his hand shaking on the tabletop as he and his father screamed at each other. His mother had walked out of the dining room when they began, just picking up her Lambrusco with a sigh and leaving her actual lunch on the table. Tony wanted his dad to stop screaming at him and he wanted his mother to help with that and he wanted to see Rhodey and he desperately wanted cocaine. He thought of five places in downtown L.A. and three in West Hollywood where he could score.

Tony stood and picked up his sandwich off of his plate while his father was in mid-sentence. Howard just chuckled when Tony began walking away, out of the room. “Where ya goin'?” Howard asked, his tone snotty as ice clinked around in his drink, and Tony didn't turn around or stop walking or even acknowledge it. “What? Gonna go cry to the Black guy you took to the airport, right?”

Tony's blood went cold and he stopped walking – he wouldn't even bother asking how Howard knew about Rhodey. It was obvious. “Playin' kissyface in the limo,” Howard continued with a shake of his head. “How'd you meet _this_ one? Let me guess – blew him in an alley, didn't you?” Tony's flesh crawled and he turned to face his father, every inch of his skin burning with shame and rage. He knew what this was. His dad was trying to rile him up, start a fight with him, and it was working. He wanted to walk over there and punch his dad right in the fucking face. Howard was so mean, such an asshole.

But he didn't go punch his dad in the face. Tony looked into his father's drunk and swimmy eyes and said, “Actually, Dad, I blew him after he found me puking in a bush at the beginning of the school year. He gave me a ride home and I blew him on the couch you bought in the apartment you pay for.” Tony heard his voice shaking but he kept talking. “He's the nicest person I've ever met, okay? He likes me, he's my boyfriend” - Howard raised an eyebrow at that - “and if I'm lucky I'll be with him forever and I'll get to leave _all_ of your stupid fucking money and assets to him.”

“ _You_ have a boyfriend?” Howard huffed, and he began mumbling insults and slurs that Tony had heard entirely too many times before to let it affect him now. Tony turned and kept walking out of the room, up the stairs and to his bedroom. He locked the door behind him. He thought of doing exactly what Howard suggested and calling Rhodey, sobbing into the phone and all that. Instead he forced his sandwich down – he wasn't hungry at all – and then kept it down for only an hour before he had to vomit it back up.

 

*

 

Tony stayed locked in his bedroom for the next week. For days his muscles ached with every movement and his head pounded, he sweated buckets and dry heaved into his expensive Italian toilet. He had horrible diarrhea though he couldn't eat a thing and his thoughts became strange and dangerous, fatalistic in a way, anxious thoughts that his family knew he was a junkie but didn't give a shit. He kept hearing his dad's words in his head - “ _You_ have a boyfriend?” - like, what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean. Sometimes his parents would pop in to invite him out to dinner or something and he'd just insist he was just sick with something, and they never asked what. He sometimes tried to go down to the workshop and mess around with his robot but his hands shook so badly that he couldn't even hold a screwdriver still, let alone type out coding. Tony had horrible cold sweats and he took hot baths that were soothing but still painful – the water hurt, but it kept him warm. He was still drinking, nursing scotch throughout the day before slamming it back until he passed out at the end of the night – it settled his head and his muscles down enough so that he could actually sleep.

Tony was dope-sick and he knew it. A few lines of primo SoCal coke would have him feeling good as new, and he wanted cocaine _really fucking bad_. It was all he could think about most days, but that wasn't an option anymore. He drew sketches of coca leaves and of neatly cut lines on dazzling crystal tabletops. He burned all the sketches once they were done. Tony had the phone numbers of six different dealers in L.A., half an hour away if he took the Jag and stuck to the back roads, so he burned his address book. The whole fucking thing. He had all the numbers he needed to know memorized, anyway.

Rhodey called for him once during that week. Tony had been trying to breathe his way through some terrible shivers when he heard his phone ring and he almost just ignored it, but then he picked up right as the answering machine turned on.

“Hey.” Tony's voice was shaking, he knew it.

“Hi.” Rhodey stayed quiet for a moment and Tony let out a long sigh. “You okay? You sound kinda...”

Tony was breathing hard and gripping the receiver with white knuckles. He could hear his fingers squeaking along the plastic, he gripped it so hard. “I've been sick, it'll pass.” Tony wondered how much Rhodey knew about detoxing and how much it sucked. “I'm not high, though. I promise, I haven't -”

“How's home been so far?”

Good. Tony didn't want to talk about it, either. “My parents are being assholes, but hey, what's new?” He heard Rhodey moan sympathetically. “It's my mission for them to never, _ever_ meet you. Like, _ever_.”

“Why not? It might not go _that_ bad.”

“Howard's an asshole, trust me,” Tony said, his head dizzy with fever and something else now as he thought about lunch on his second day home. “Seriously, he's – I fucking hate him. The limo driver told him about us and he asked me if we met when I blew you in an alley. Shoulda seen the face he made when I called you my boyfriend.” They both went quiet at that for a while. “He thinks I'm a slut. Probably because I always was before.”

“I don't care what you were like before,” Rhodey said, his tone so firm that Tony went silent. “He shouldn't talk to you that way.” Tony couldn't respond to that. His eyes were burning and his throat was swelling around the hate and the pain of his home life, the only emotions he'd really even felt since he kissed Rhodey outside of the airport. “You need a distraction, man. I thought you were sending a jet for me.”

Tony finally gave up the ghost and sobbed into the phone just as his father had predicted he would, and Rhodey just listened and commiserated while Tony shivered and blabbered in clipped sentences. They said goodbye and Tony called their pilot to schedule a round trip from Philadelphia to Malibu. Tony slept well that night, to his surprise.

 

*

 

On the eighth day, Tony's skin felt normal. He ran a hand down his arm and didn't feel like screaming. That was good. He felt hungover for the first time since he started to kick and he was horribly hungry. He wanted real food – something heavy and filling like Mexican or a giant burger. He came out of his room and ordered pizza, and then he took a shower now that he could finally stand up without getting dizzy. He ate his dinner and had a scotch by himself out by the pool, and he thought of how he hadn't been to L.A. since he'd come home for the summer. Just half an hour away in the Jag. He had all kinds of friends there, people who would love to see him, party down with him until the sun rose. He'd been _so bored_ since he got home. He could probably handle just a bump or two -

“Why's the plane going to Philadelphia?” Tony heard, and he turned to see his father standing in the patio doorway wearing most of a suit and putting on his cufflinks. Maybe he and Maria were going out. “Kurt said you booked a flight plan for June.”

“I got a friend coming to town,” he explained.

“The one who gave you a ride home?” Howard asked, pulling at his cuffs.

“Yeah.” _The one I blew on the couch,_ Tony wanted to say, but it was a nice night and he finally felt normal, healthy. He didn't want to ruin it by fighting with the bastard at the door.

“Okay,” Howard said, and then – to Tony's endless shock and awe – he said nothing else, just turned and walked back into the house, across the living room and up the stairs.

 

 

* * *

 

_June_

 

A month into summer break, Tony was still clean. He was drinking heavily, yes, but he hadn't used or even seen cocaine since his first day back in Malibu. Destroying his address book meant that he lost touch with his sleazier contacts, and only the people who were brave enough – and clean enough – to face his parents came around him anymore. They were all rich neighbors who had grown up in cliff-side mansions just like Tony, and now they were juniors at Princeton or Stanford or Cal Tech or wherever. They drank, too, but not so much that they weren't impressed by the amount of booze Tony could put away in one night. It helped him work through the cravings he still felt – even though his body didn't hurt for coke anymore he still thought about it every day, dreamed about it, wished he could do it just one more time. Just a bump. He wouldn't get hooked again, he swore to himself that he was strong enough not to get hooked again, but he knew better than that. He still wouldn't go into L.A. for that reason, and it didn't surprise him that his “friends” there weren't trying to get in touch with him.

So instead Tony went running on the beach without a shirt and got some much-needed sun on his skin. He'd sit by the pool too and eat heavy, salty food while he lay in the sun, and he'd work it off by running 5K and doing push-ups every other day. He was getting tan and growing muscles – starting to look like a California boy again. He went out alone into town occasionally, either to visit his buddies in R&D at his father's company or just for lunch or whatever. Sometimes his parents joined him...wasn't always terrible. Tony went to the dentist and got his teeth bleached (needed a few crowns, too) and he sent a cleaning crew to prep his family's condo on Zuma Beach. He and Rhodey would need a place to hide when he came to visit.

Once a week Tony drove to Santa Monica to see his therapist. She was the only one he'd told about the drugs, and she suggested he go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings but there _was no_ anonymity for Tony Stark. He just promised her that he had this under control and that he wouldn't be high when he graduated next spring. He told her about Rhodey, too, and she smiled whenever Tony talked about him. She understood why Tony intended to hide Rhodey from his family, though she did say that it was unfortunate that Tony felt he had to do that.

He spoke to Rhodey often. He was due to visit soon and he said he'd never visited southern California before, just the Bay area. Tony went to the doctor and got a physical and a blood test, and later that day he went and checked out the condo on Zuma Beach, made sure it looked perfect and that the kitchen (and the bar) was stocked. He put lube in every bedroom and bought the kind of coffee Rhodey liked, and he added music to the record collection, fun stuff from Philly that he hoped Rhodey was already into. He watched his parents in an attempt to learn what lovers looked like, and maybe they weren't the best examples, but they didn't always disappoint. They didn't spend much time around each other but sometimes he'd see Howard bring Maria a cup of tea, and his mother always trimmed his father's mustache for him. Had done it forever, as early as Tony could remember. He wasn't sure how often his parents even spoke to each other, but Tony always liked how Howard got to zip Maria into her gowns whenever they'd go to fancy events. His dad would always stand back and pat her hips when he was done, smiling at the smooth satin of her dress.

 

*

 

Two weeks later Rhodey came to visit. He loved the condo but asked about visiting Tony's house some time soon, said he wanted to check on DUM-E and see the Starks' mythical private workshop. Tony promised Rhodey some workshop time but he waffled when asked if his folks would be home, too. Rhodey meeting his parents...Tony couldn't imagine anything worse.

They put away Rhodey's stuff and Tony took him to dinner, making sure to take the Pacific Coast Highway there instead of the local roads. They didn't go anywhere too fancy but the restaurant _was_ on a pier and there _were_ little lanterns on the tables, but Rhodey waved off Tony's apology at the silly romantic décor – he really hadn't known they did that at night. They ate fried seafood and bought mixers for their booze before heading back to the condo, and Rhodey complained of jetlag when he sat his drink down on the bedside table and flopped onto Tony's mattress.

“It's kind of early to go to bed,” Tony said as he sat beside Rhodey, placing his own drink on the table beside him. They were both already just in t-shirts and boxers so sleeping wasn't out of the question, but then again it was only eight in the evening. Rhodey turned over and grinned at Tony, a grin that Tony had seen a million times and probably could draw at this point. He knew what that grin meant, and it made his heart want to explode.

“I'm not _that_ tired,” Rhodey said as his hand crawled across the sheets and found the hem of Tony's shirt, and he gave a playful tug. Tony followed along and was immediately pulled on top of Rhodey for a deep kiss, better than the one they shared on the tarmac after the plane landed, and Rhodey's hips arched up into Tony, making him moan. It had been a little while for them and Tony was ridiculously eager, his skin hot and tingling already, and he straddled Rhodey's hips and tasted his mouth, synced the movement of their bodies together, both of them firming up already as their dicks brushed through their boxers.

“We should...” Tony began, mumbling it into their kiss but becoming distracted rather quickly. Rhodey's lips drifted to his neck and he continued, his words clipped as Rhodey's hands kneaded at his ass. “I got tested, I'm clean.” Rhodey's hands paused and Tony held his breath, thinking that he might have just said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but he wanted Rhodey to know. “I realized that we pretty much forgot about condoms at _some_ point last spring, so I just want you to know I'm clean and that means that you are too, so you know, it's...not an issue.” Tony faced Rhodey then and tried to smile, though he was sure it looked nervous and weak.

“I had a physical back in March, actually – all clear,” Rhodey said. “But I wasn't worried.” He grinned too but it looked a bit pained, concerned. “Hey, I don't think of you the way some other people do, okay? The way your dad does.”

Tony's face heated and he looked down, into Rhodey's chest. “I know,” Tony said. He remembered Rhodey's grin from their date night last February, teeth and wet skin glinting in the dim light of his bedroom in Cambridge. Just thinking about it made Tony's blood hot, and he shifted in Rhodey's lap. “Remember that time when you walked me out of the shower and took me to bed?” Rhodey's smile melted into something gentler, the concern leaving his features as his hands slid up to Tony's hips. Tony hadn't even thought about condoms that night, he'd just let Rhodey lay him down and take what he wanted, and when they finished they kept their damp bodies together on the soggy mattress and kissed until Rhodey fell asleep. Tony pressed his forehead to Rhodey's and sighed. “That was a great night.”

“Sure was,” Rhodey said, and he kissed Tony on the lips, leaning up with him and gripping his ass to slide their hips back and forth. “I think about it a lot.” Rhodey smiled and so did Tony, remembering. Tony kissed Rhodey's lips again and followed the urging of the hands on his hips that reminded him of what they'd been up to in the first place.

Tony scooted away and removed his underwear, then quickly retrieved the lube he'd stashed away weeks earlier. He got back onto the bed still wearing an MIT t-shirt as he broke the plastic seal on the bottle while Rhodey pushed down his own boxers and reached out for Tony. Tony took the hint and straddled Rhodey's hips again, and Rhodey took the lube from him and wet his fingers, dropped the bottle and pulled Tony forward with his free hand. Tony held onto the headboard as they kissed slowly, and he whimpered into it at the feeling of Rhodey's slick fingers caressing him, drawing light circles and dipping into him teasingly before swirling again. Tony arched back and into the touch with a groan, pushing back on Rhodey's finger until it was knuckle-deep in him. Rhodey bucked his hips up at Tony, pressing his erection into him while easing another finger inside, and Tony moved his body shamelessly in rhythm with Rhodey's touch, his face hot on Rhodey's neck.

“You missed me, I'm guessing,” Rhodey whispered, fingers curling, and now Tony could feel his cock leaking along Rhodey's shirt, both of them still halfway dressed and too fucking impatient to waste time on stripping. Tony felt like his skin was on fire and he realized he was panting and sweating when he sat back and picked up the lube, and he quickly spread some all over Rhodey's dick, which was dribbling as generously as Tony's was now. “Missed you, too,” Rhodey mumbled, his hands on Tony's hips as he pulled him forward and positioned him properly, his gaze fixed where their bodies joined as Tony eased himself down and around Rhodey's cock – and it was as big and thick as Tony remembered, firm and hot and almost too present inside of him, so familiar, so welcome.

Tony began to move then, slowly at first but speeding up quickly as Rhodey settled into his tightness after so long, and soon Tony was relaxing around him and trying not to moan too much even though they were all alone in the house. Tony looked down to see Rhodey leaning up as his hands slid down and around back to Tony's ass, his hips joining in to make his thrusts firm and deep now, sweat already shimmering in the dip of his throat. Tony gritted his teeth and looked away – Rhodey's dreamy and blissed out face was known to _do things_ to him, things he couldn't handle and didn't quite understand yet – and he felt Rhodey's lips trembling on his clavicle, breaths quick on his skin, his moans weak.

Rhodey looked up into Tony's face again and kept up his firm pace, his knees bent and his hands gripping Tony's ass as he thrust into him. Rhodey's eyes were wild and desperate and Tony figured his own were, too – he was just breathing and grasping at Rhodey's shoulders, at the headboard or wherever he could get a good grip as the bed started to pop and sing, springs squeaking with their movements. Rhodey leaned up to kiss Tony sloppily before gripping his hips and hammering home, clearly ready to come, and Tony's eyes almost crossed when he felt the thick head of Rhodey's cock brushing a spot deep inside of him. He tried to say something but he knew it was coming out as gibberish, but Rhodey seemed to get the idea because he reached between them and wrapped a hand around Tony's cock, and it only took two gentle pulls and then Tony was coming with wide eyes and a mouth that gaped but said nothing, made not a single sound, his legs tense and trembling with Rhodey still fucking him, and only a second passed before Rhodey let out a rough groan, not too loud but so intense he trembled with it, hips snapping, and Tony could feel it rushing out of Rhodey and into him, the warmth of it almost soothing.

Tony closed his eyes and fell forward onto Rhodey's shoulder so that he could breath for a moment, and he felt Rhodey's hands caressing warm paths up and down his back and his sides. Rhodey's arms wrapped around his waist and he rolled over with Tony, laid him down on the bed and moved to ease out of him, but Tony quickly wrapped his legs around Rhodey before he could move too far away.

“Don't move,” Tony breathed, his eyes drooping and and his breath gusting, and he reached up and wrapped his arms around Rhodey's shoulders, pulling him down on him. Tony sighed and lazily rolled his hips up, sliding Rhodey's spent but still firm cock back into him, taking as much as he could from his position. Rhodey got the idea and helped out, arched forward and eased in all the way - “ _Jesus_ , Tony, I...” he began before drifting off into a coarse moan. Tony was slick and still hot, intensely full as well, and Rhodey whimpered raggedly when Tony squeezed around him. Tony shuddered, his body oversensitive in his post-coital haze, but the tense thrum in his muscles was nice. Reminded him of...something. He wasn't sure what.

“Stay where you are,” Tony whispered.

 

*

 

Tony stayed at the condo on the beach with Rhodey every day, slept there every night. During the day they explored as much of southern California as they could and Tony adored showing Rhodey around, from Newport Beach to Venice to the canyons and of course Malibu. Rhodey brought plenty of clothes with him but Tony still took him shopping, bought him little white swim trunks from Gautier that made his ass look downright edible – and it was, and very much so. They would lay beside the pool together and Rhodey's hands would brush Tony's sun-kissed skin and he'd mumble, “Nice,” from behind his aviators.

Sex went off without a hitch, but the talking was awkward at first. They sort of had to find their rapport again, ease back into it. Tony was different when he wasn't high, and it was clear now that Rhodey hadn't actually seen Tony sober much at all last year. He was always either drunk or high and rambling on and on while Rhodey just shook his head at him. But now Tony was quieter, though still vivacious in his particular way – more attentive, actually, and he could tell that Rhodey was taking a moment to get used to it all. He hoped Rhodey liked him this way, at least, and Tony himself liked being able to focus, to listen and remember the things that Rhodey said to him. Sometimes Tony would be sitting quietly and listening to Rhodey talk about whatever, and Rhodey would pause just to laugh and shake his head, and when Tony asked what was wrong, Rhodey would just say, “Nothing.”

Tony's suspicions were confirmed when Rhodey turned to him as they both sat on the couch watching television, and he just said, “You're different now. I like it.”

“How am I different?”

“You're not so...all those uppers made you so manic,” Rhodey said. “And now it's like you're more quiet, sort of peaceful or something. You're not working, you're not trashed...it's _you_ , the real you or something, I don't know.”

Tony laughed and moved closer to Rhodey, draping a leg over his knee. “Yeah.”

“I'm sorry,” Rhodey said, shaking his head. “I'm not judging, I'm just – I like it, that's all. I like _you_.”

“Aww,” Tony said instead of just saying that he was thinking. “I like you, too.”

 

*

 

Tony tried to avoid it but they finally ended up at his parents' house about a week into Rhodey's visit. Rhodey seemed as though he was trying not to marvel at the place as they drove up to it, and Tony was glad that it was the weekend and most of the staff was off work. His dad was at company headquarters for the day and his mother had a charity softball game to attend. At least he didn't have them to worry about, too.

“People _live_ in this building?” Rhodey asked incredulously as they walked into the living room, which was huge and round and had a giant window facing the ocean outside. Every other person Tony had ever brought home was used the opulence of a Malibu cliff-side mansion, which made Rhodey's awe rather new and actually a bit awkward for Tony. He wished that he would have thought to hide the Ming dynasty vases and take down the Picasso that was in the foyer, but that wouldn't have made much difference anyway, seeing as how the house itself was built from a design by Frank Lloyd Wright. The house looked like the Guggenheim because it was _supposed to_ look like it.

They went down to the shop and got to work on DUM-E, mostly just fixing bugs from last year. There was equipment in the lab that didn't exist anywhere else in the world, custom stuff made by Tony and his dad, and Rhodey took to learning these machines as if they held a great secret for him. Tony left Rhodey with his father's custom-built lathe and went upstairs to clean up the mess in his room, to empty the trash can full of burnt drawings and pick up all the empty booze bottles. He made sure his lube was nearby and that his bedsheets were clean (he loved the idea of fucking Rhodey in his parents' home – that would _really_ piss Howard off). He stopped in the kitchen and asked their chef to get dinner started before heading back to the workshop.

He heard two voices when he entered and his stomach clenched as adrenalin burst out into his blood, so strong that he felt faint for a moment. His mother never came down there, and neither did any of the housekeeping staff. Tony took a deep breath and continued walking into the workshop to find Rhodey still at the lathe, and Howard Stark was standing there in a suit and talking to him, pointing at the lathe and smiling here and there.

“I thought you were at work,” Tony said as he walked up, trying to keep his voice calm, though he honestly hoped it wasn't working. He wanted Howard to understand that he needed to leave. Now.

“I was,” he responded. “It's a Saturday, didn't stay long. I heard we had a guest so I thought I'd come say hello.”

Rhodey looked up at Tony and smiled, though it was tense in a way. “You didn't tell me you helped design this thing,” Rhodey said, patting the machine in front of them.

“Well, I did,” Tony said, trying to smile. He looked at Howard again, who immediately checked his watch before stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I'll see you two at dinner, I assume,” Howard said, and he nodded to Rhodey. “Jim, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Rhodey stood and shook Howard's hand, stuttering out that the pleasure was all his, and Howard left without looking back.

Rhodey turned to Tony with a cool grin on his face. “Don't worry,” Rhodey said. “He didn't ask about the back-alley head that I never got.”

 

They ate dinner with Tony's parents and thankfully no one mentioned blowjobs. Tony barely said a word but Rhodey talked plenty, talked about things that Tony hadn't even known about him. Tony realized that they hadn't ever really _talked_ before the day Rhodey tried to break up with him, or maybe it was that Tony had never really listened to Rhodey, actually. Tony talked so much, he just talked and talked all the time, but now Rhodey was telling his parents about his gearhead uncles and his father's death and his mother making partner at her law firm. The Starks seemed impressed by every word that came out of Rhodey's mouth. It was one thing to fuck this guy and sleep beside him, but to _know_ Rhodey was almost too much. Sure, Tony was rich and had a sure-thing of a career laid out in front of him, but Rhodey was ambitious in a way that made Tony feel lazy. Rhodey talked about the future a lot – he really wanted to be a pilot, had already begun his training and talked about it probably more than anything else that night. He was moving to Edwards to finish pilot's training after college and he couldn't wait. Edwards AFB was only a few hours from Malibu. Tony imagined designing a jet for Rhodey, building it for him and giving it to him one of these days. He imagined the look on Rhodey's face and the way he might kiss after something like that.

After dinner they sat out by the pool together and Tony drank scotch while Rhodey had a beer. Rhodey couldn't understand how _anyone_ could drink that shit straight. “Comes with a lot of practice,” Tony said dryly, and Rhodey just patted Tony's shoulder.

“I didn't know your dad was dead,” Tony said. “Didn't know your mom was a lawyer, either.”

Rhodey just shrugged and moved to lay back in the chaise he was sitting on. Tony wanted to know more but he wasn't sure if Rhodey wanted to talk about it. Tony doubted he would miss his own father after he was gone but he knew that it rarely worked out that way. He was worried he'd say something wrong, act a little too jubilant at the notion of losing a shitty parent and hurt Rhodey's feelings. So he asked a different question.

“I'm not your first boyfriend, am I?” he asked, and Rhodey just shook his head. “And you've been doing this military thing for how long?”

“Since high school,” he said. “Air Force ROTC. Went to the Air Force Academy, too.”

“Don't they kick you out if you're...” Tony didn't continue, but Rhodey knew was he was getting at. He just nodded.

“Does your mom know?” Tony asked, and Rhodey nodded again. “Is she mad about it?” Rhodey's brow wrinkled when he shook his head at that, like it was a ridiculous idea. Tony's face felt hot and he looked past the pool and out to the ocean, which was painted pink and purple and orange with the sunset.

“I bet she's nice,” Tony said as he watched seagulls cutting across the horizon.

 

They went back to the shop after dinner and kept working into the night, until neither of them could hold their heads up. Tony suggested going back to the condo and Rhodey just shook his head and took his hand, pulling him towards the stairs. “It's too late to be drivin',” Rhodey mumbled. “Show me your room.”

Tony's initial thought was to protest something like that, to suggest that they sleep in separate rooms for propriety's sake, but that was ridiculous – they were legally adults, and hadn't he been planning to fuck Rhodey under his parents' roof anyway? They were too tired to fool around so they fell asleep with the blinds open, the view outside nothing but ocean and starry sky, and Tony looked forward to the morning when the sunlight would come pouring in.

 

*

 

Rhodey stayed for a few more days and met some of Tony's friends from Malibu, all of whom were delightfully square and studious, just like Rhodey could be sometimes. They also went into L.A. but they didn't go near downtown or Skid Row, nor did Tony take him near Inglewood or West Hollywood or Echo Park, all places where Tony knew he could get coke. He hadn't thought about cocaine in ages until today, as he drove down Hollywood Boulevard and Mulholland Drive, saw bums and junkies panhandling here and there. He was glad that there was no touristy stuff near his old haunts. They ate at Fatburger and saw the Watts Towers, and at night they walked on the private stretch of Zuma Beach that belonged to the Stark family.

The day before Rhodey was due to leave, Tony got a call at the condo. He figured his folks knew they were there so he wasn't surprised when it was Howard on the line.

“Jim leaves tomorrow, doesn't he?” Howard asked, and Tony already didn't like where this was going.

“Yeah.”

“You should bring him by the house this evening.”

“Why?” Tony asked, not even trying to make it sound cordial.

Howard huffed out a laugh before replying, “Because your parents would like to say goodbye to him. Kid's sharp as a tack.”

Tony's heart stuttered and his throat closed in shock. “Well, I – I'll...” Tony coughed and tried to compose himself. “I'll see ya tonight, I guess.”

 

Dinner wasn't so bad this time around. Tony spoke more and the conversation was less about getting information on Rhodey and more about lighthearted stuff, things about Tony's doctoral work and Rhodey's thesis. His mother insisted they stay there for the night, but she never said anything about where Rhodey should sleep – spare room, Tony's room...she never specified. So they laid on Tony's bed and ignored the television, kissed a little bit but mostly talked. Tony talked, too, but it was less white noise and more intimate things, things that mattered – such as the fact that he'd rather own a few bars and design hot rods than have anything to do with Stark Industries once he was done with college. Rhodey grinned at that and told Tony that he'd probably get bored just messing around with cars. “I think you hate your dad more than you hate the work,” Rhodey said, too, and Tony couldn't deny it. Eventually Tony ended up describing what it felt like to detox off of narcotics, and Rhodey listened with shocked-wide eyes.

“It hurt,” Tony said. “It was like – like having the worst flu ever, plus a stomach bug and a head cold. I was just aching and vomiting all the time, shitting my guts out, I was having _crazy_ fever dreams – lasted like a week. It sucked.” He looked at Rhodey, who was grinning painfully though his eyes were horrified. “You called me while I was sick – that time I told you about Howard being a jerk. That's why I sounded so crazy.”

“I'm sorry,” Rhodey said. Tony went to protest but Rhodey continued with, “I'm sorry it was so painful for you. I didn't know it...you know, could hurt like that.”

“It's fine, I'm better off now anyway,” Tony mumbled.

“Do you still think about it?” Rhodey asked.

“Almost every fucking day,” Tony responded, and it was easier to admit that than he'd thought. “It would be _amazing_ to do it one more time, you know, just a little bit. But I can't, I won't. I know what would happen.” _(You'd really leave me this time around, wouldn't you? And then whatever happens after that is just...whatever happens. I'd probably just do coke until it kills me.)_ “I'm better off now, right?”

“You are,” Rhodey said, and Tony smiled when he felt Rhodey's hand on the back of his neck, just rubbing gently.

 

*

 

Rhodey left the next morning. Tony drove him to the airstrip, onto the runway and right up to the jet in a blacked out SUV. “Thanks for having me, man, seriously,” Rhodey said, turning to face Tony from the passenger seat.

“My pleasure,” Tony said. “Feel free to come back soon, all expenses paid.”

“Nah, we'll be back in school in a few weeks.”

“I don't care.”

Rhodey laughed and Tony did, too, though he wasn't joking, and Rhodey leaned forward to give him a warm hug. “You look great,” Rhodey said quietly into his ear. “I'm proud of ya, for real.”

They kissed even though they could be seen through the front windshield. Rhodey's mouth softened and his lips spread just the tiniest bit, not enough for Tony's tongue to ease all the way in but that was okay, he just wanted to taste Rhodey, to smell him and feel the wetness and warmth at the center of his kiss.

They broke the kiss and stayed close for a moment, Rhodey with a tense, unhappy grin that Tony didn't like. “Wow, well...” Rhodey began, but then he just leaned in and kissed Tony again, warm and slow, and there was nothing unhappy about his grin when he finally exited the vehicle without another word. Tony put his sunglasses on and turned his face away, blinked hard and trying to think of other things, but still, his vision went foggy as he started the car.

 

Tony got back to his house and went to the kitchen to grab lunch – he threw together a sandwich and took it downstairs with him to continue his work on DUM-E. His dad was down there working on something, too, and Tony didn't say anything to him as he entered. Still, Howard looked up from the computer console and nodded a bit at him, and Tony returned it.

“How was the trip to the airport?” Howard asked, and Tony just stopped in his tracks and lowered his sandwich. Jesus Christ. What a ridiculous question. He wasn't asking because he actually gave a shit about the drive. He was needling Tony for more info on Rhodey, and Tony was starting to get sick of it.

“Why do you give a shit?” he asked before he could stop himself, before he could really think about what this meant, the fact that his father had clearly taken an interest in the person he was dating. “You've never given a shit about any other guy I've brought around here -”

“You never called any of those idiots your boyfriend,” Howard said.

 

* * *

 

_July_

 

Tony spent the rest of the summer basically just waiting to get back to MIT and trying to decrease his liquor consumption. He tried to drop it cold turkey one day but he had the shakes within an hour of waking up in the morning, so that was a no-go. One of his local buddies had told him about their own alcohol detox experience – hallucinations, awful body odor, seizures, vomiting blood – and Tony just wasn't sure he could go through another detox experience, and especially one like that. So he just tried his best to drink less as the days passed, and in the end he wasn't sure how much he succeeded with that. He eventually got to the point where he didn't have to drink first thing in the morning, but there could be no complete freedom from alcohol just yet. He looked at his mother and father, both of whom were always tipsy at the very least, and accepted that this might be a demon that he would have to live with. But by the time he was packing to return to Cambridge, he wasn't drinking before noon anymore. That was good – he felt proud of that achievement, and Rhodey was proud of him, too.

 

Tony still went out and partied, sure, and on those nights he could drink like his old self, but the hangovers were horrible so he tried to have as few of those as possible. He mentioned this one night to one of his friends as they lounged around at a party, and the guy waved a baggie at Tony while mumbling, “This'll help,” with a wink. Tony's face burned and he looked away, his heart pounding.

“No thanks,” he said immediately, then he turned and was sure to smile at the guy. Tony's voice was trembling and he was sure his hands were, too – he wanted that baggie, he didn't care what the fuck was in it but he was pretty sure it was cocaine, at least a quarter, and he wanted to snort all of it – but he stood up and walked outside to the patio. He lit a cigarette and shut his eyes. He'd be back at MIT in a week. Just a few more days.

Tony went home shortly after that and let himself have one more drink because he was still shaking and sweating and thinking about coke, and it did help a bit. He was able to take a shower and finish some sketches and call Rhodey, but it was late on the east coast so they didn't talk for long. They hung up after just twenty minutes – Rhodey was literally falling asleep on him – and Tony jerked off, almost amazed at how he could get hard and stay hard now that he was clean, and he thought of Rhodey's mouth on him and his mouth on Rhodey, tasting his skin, Rhodey easing inside of him, filling him with everything, laughing in his ear and kissing him.

 

*

 

Tony climbed out of his father's car and waited politely as his parents followed and the driver went around to the trunk to get Tony's bags. It was the same guy that had ratted him and Rhodey out to his dad, but Tony wasn't upset about that anymore. He smiled and slipped the guy a twenty when he sat Tony's bags at his feet. His mother kissed his cheek and hugged him, and his father shook his hand before giving his shoulder a surprisingly warm pat.

“Good luck,” Howard said. “And tell Jim hello for us.”

Tony tried not to look too dumbfounded as he gave his parents a final farewell for the semester, and he boarded the jet.

 

 

* * *

 

_August_  
 _Cambridge, MA_

 

In hindsight, Tony realized that the smartest thing he'd ever done in relation to this whole “recovery” thing was burning his address book. He got back to Cambridge and couldn't find anyone, didn't have anyone's phone numbers or addresses anymore. He literally couldn't find cocaine anymore – not that he'd tried, but he couldn't act like the idea hadn't crossed his mind. Now that he was basically just finishing up his doctorates, he rarely came in contact with any of that old crowd. His first night in town he sat in his living room thinking of nothing but coke, remembering how his coffee table looked when it was covered in the stuff, but he forgot about all that once Rhodey arrived with dinner and a spare key to his new dorm room. Rhodey also brought a new toothbrush and workout clothes to leave there – they liked going for runs around Tony's block together.

Tony still craved cocaine here and there, especially during long hours in the lab or the library when he'd be nodding off in front of a computer screen, but often Rhodey was there, too, making fresh pots of coffee and complaining about the long hours right along with him. Tony still saw some of the kids that he used to get high with and he could tell they were still at it, all bug-eyed and talkative in the library at nine in the morning, and they asked him to join them sometimes but he always declined. It got easier to say no when he began to notice how sickly and wired they all were. He winced whenever he remembered his own shaking hands or the way he could _literally_ never face Rhodey during sex. Tony found and burned every photo of himself from the last year, every newspaper or magazine snapshot of him with big circles under his eyes and sweat shining on his face. Tony still partied occasionally but not at all the way he used to, and not often without Rhodey, and there weren't many parties that Rhodey was willing or even able to attend.

Tony worked slower – _a lot_ slower – without uppers to aid him, but his “slow” was still bafflingly quick for other engineering students. His doctor cut off his Adderall prescription once he admitted to abusing it, so he didn't even have that to help him anymore – but did he really _need_ it? Working slower meant less mistakes, better time management, less long nights in the lab. He could set a schedule for himself – 6pm: lab, 8 to 10pm: welding, 10:30pm: home – and he would stick to it. He would agree to meet Rhodey for lunch and studying in the union, and he'd actually remember, and he wouldn't be late. His doctoral committees even seemed to like him more or something – or maybe it was the fact that he was bringing them better work. Rhodey had his own thesis to finish this year but he was still Tony's adviser's assistant, and he stopped leaving during the meetings. He couldn't help so much with DUM-E anymore but he'd still sit in on the meetings and just listen, and he'd smile and nod whenever anyone was praising Tony's work.

Graduation neared and Tony was trying to plan out his future, though it was obvious – take over Stark Industries when Dad retired in what looked like a decade or so – but it sounded like a drag to him. And who knew when Howard would actually want to retire, anyway? What would Tony do in the mean time? He was already writing articles for academic and science journals, and he had plenty of new aircraft designs in mind – he supposed he could just work in R&D and write, too. Rhodey was finishing his M.S. and would be working out of Edwards for Air Force Acquisitions and Development, a fact that made Tony want to jump and shout. They'd be right up the road from each other, and that was the office that Stark Industries worked with for it's military contracts. So staying in Malibu wouldn't be _that_ bad.

 

*

 

The middle of October rolled around, so Tony called his buddies at IBM and purchased the highest quality home computer he could get his hands on. He got all the software needed for programming and design, and he bought cases of blank disks as well. DUM-E was working brilliantly and now Tony was working on his dissertation paper, writing up a giant tome on his research and spending very little time in the lab. He was also writing up his paper for his aerospace engineering doctorate now that the blueprints were finished. If he really hustled he could be out of there by December but he didn't want to sacrifice quality just to impress people with his genius. It was worth it to take his time.

The computer and all it's accessories arrived, and Tony took his time wrapping all the boxes and putting them in his spare room. He ordered food and it arrived minutes before Rhodey did, while Tony was putting roasted chicken and yucca on plates for them.

“Good thinkin',” Rhodey said as he threw his jacket over the back of the couch. “I'm starving.”

They sat and ate and cleaned up together, and then Tony took Rhodey's hand and led him to the spare room. Rhodey was confused when he saw the pile of boxes in the middle of the floor – he just squeezed Tony's hand a bit and looked at him, his expression baffled.

“It's a computer,” Tony said. “So you don't have to go to the lab so much. This way you can just work in your room. Or here, depending on where you wanna set it up.”

Rhodey blinked and looked back to the boxes, then to Tony, then to the boxes again. “What...” Rhodey chuckled, shaking Tony's hand in his own. “Why would you get me a computer?”

“It's been a year,” Tony said, drawing Rhodey's eyes to him. “I mean we really got started in August, but October was when it became just you and me.” Rhodey nodded, blinking, just looking at Tony and grinning. “I don't know what the actual date for that would be, but I figure that the middle of the month is a pretty good compromise. Sound good to you?”

“Yes,” Rhodey said, and he leaned forward and kissed Tony. “October 16th. Got it.”

 

* * *

 

_May 31 st, 1991 _

 

Rhodey graduated summa cum laude like Tony knew he would. Tony was awake and coherent as he strode up to the podium to be handed his doctorates, and he shook hands with all of the administrators and professors present and ignored the flash bulbs. He saw flashes going off in the audience, too, and some even in the crowd of graduates, and the light didn't hurt his eyes. His parents were seated with the Rhodes family, just the two of them amongst about ten people that had traveled all the way from Philadelphia to see Rhodey graduate. Tony reddened when he heard them cheering for them, quite uncouth for commencement at MIT, but he smiled through it. They cheered even louder when Rhodey received his diploma, and Tony couldn't help but laugh at the embarrassed glare Rhodey shot their way. Tony saw some of his old party buddies getting their diplomas and they were all sweating and winded, nodding too fast and shaking the dean's hand like it was electrified. Everyone exited the auditorium to socialize and take photos and Tony still couldn't take his eyes off of those kids – they were squinting at the sunlight and telling their parents that everything was fine.

Tony wasn't high or drunk. He and Rhodey had made love when they woke up that morning, and then they met their families for breakfast before heading to campus to prepare to graduate. He'd kept his promise to Rhodey and his therapist, and though he'd only been legal to drink for eleven days he'd still earned two doctorates, fair and square. After graduation was over they went to a country club that his father rented for the evening and everyone ate and drank, and Howard talked to Rhodey a little about SI and the DOD, about how he wanted his future with the military to go. Their guests were mostly Rhodey's family and friends from school, two things that Tony didn't have much of himself, but his parents seemed comfortable and chatty with everyone, and though that was a bit of a surprise, it was still a rather nice thing to see.

 

“He's going to be at Edwards next month,” Maria said to Tony as he watched her put out a cigarette in a crystal ashtray. She raised her eyebrows at him and smiled, then walked back inside to the party. Tony stayed seated, just looked at the slowly darkening evening sky and blinked in surprise. Maybe he should start looking at houses in Mojave, that little town right beside the base. He heard footsteps and turned to see Rhodey walking out to the patio by the club's pool, where Tony sat with his drink.

“This is insane,” Tony said as Rhodey sat beside him. “My parents. They...”

“What?” Rhodey asked lightly before taking a swig of his beer.

“They fucking _like_ you,” Tony said. Rhodey laughed sharply, leaning forward and shaking his head at Tony's amazement. “It's the craziest thing – my dad's all 'bring Jim to the house tonight' and Mom just said 'Oh he'll be at Edwards next month _wink wink_.' I think they want me to, I don't know, like... _be_ with you, I guess? I swear, nothing makes sense right now. They always hated me bringing guys around so I don't know...” Tony trailed off and shook his head, blown away by this realization – but it could have been worse. It always had been in the past.

“I bet you used to bring some real dipshits around, though,” Rhodey said, and Tony let out a bright laugh at that, a response he'd never expect from Rhodey. “Seems to me like they think I make you better. Well, Mr. Stark said as much to me earlier.”

Tony was a bit horrified to know that Rhodey and his father had apparently talked about him, about _them_ , but what Rhodey said was true. Tony used to hate thinking about the future, thought it was a waste of time and a horrible drag, but now he did it all the time because there was finally a part of his future that _wasn't_ written out, that hadn't been predetermined by his parents or their company. Tony had a thing in his life to nurture and strive towards now beyond just working for Stark Industries forever, and he had someone to think of and to care about instead of just himself. He wanted to stay healthy and treat his body better because he finally understood what he needed it for, and he also had someone to share it with. He had Rhodey to take care of now, and he was getting better at it, too. Tony imagined that he could stay with a guy like Rhodey forever, and even though he knew that real life rarely worked out that way, it didn't seem unattainable. Seemed like it was worth a shot. Family ties tended to dictate every aspect of Tony's life but they didn't touch this one, and this was his to make into whatever he wanted it to be. His love for Rhodey was something he'd had to learn, it hadn't been borne into him and he didn't carry it with a grudge, and he was doing it with a clear head and a strong body and all of his best intentions. It was a feeling he'd never known before, something he'd never done before. And it did make him better.

“Don't call him Mr. Stark,” Tony said, and he just sneered at Rhodey's giggle. They were holding hands under the table. “And don't talk to either one of them about me. I mean that asshole's totally right, but...”

“Is that a bad thing?” Rhodey asked, his thumb stroking Tony's hand beneath the tabletop, where no one else could see.

“It's not,” Tony said quickly, and he meant it. “It's actually kinda the best thing.”

Rhodey scooted his chair closer and looked up into the sky, and Tony imagined that he was probably thinking of flying. There weren't many things that made Rhodey's face look so dreamy and happy, and Tony wanted to be a part of all of them. Tony's jet design was already in production at Stark Industries, and he'd told the engineers that he already had a test pilot lined up for it. If Rhodey liked it, then it would be his jet in the end. Tony couldn't wait for the kiss he'd get for that, the smile that he'd be gifted with in return.


End file.
